


call it fate, call it karma

by frogust



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogust/pseuds/frogust
Summary: A pretty yet mysterious blond with possible mafia connections and an old-fashioned handgun moves into the apartment next to Leorio's.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 25
Kudos: 109





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kurapika in eyeliner, leggings, rings, oversized sweaters, thigh-highs... sorry, Leorio. actually, you're welcome

There was someone moving in next door. That’s what Leorio had decided, using his amazing deductive skills, after an hour or two of hearing the creaking of stairs and thumping of heavy objects coming from what used to be an empty apartment, adjacent to his own. There were a few factors as to what had taken him so long to realize that this was the case. The first was that it was probably about two in the morning. He didn’t feel like rolling over in bed to check the time, because he had found a very comfortable sleeping position and had no desire to ruin it for the sake of classifying what absurd hour of the morning he had been awoken at. The second factor was that nobody ever moved in and out of this place. There were about five other residents other than himself, and in his five-ish years of living here he had only met two of them. They were both ancient creatures, too- it was practically a nursing home. The last factor was that there was literally no good reason to move into these apartments. They were in the most dangerous part of town, falling apart at the edges, and most other residents likely had mafia connections. 

Leorio had only moved here because it was dirt cheap, and close to the university. Also, he supposed he had some sort of mafia connections as well- a few of his close friends were very suspicious, to say the least. He had learned not to ask questions.

After what felt like two hours of listening to the mystery person make loud noises next door, he resolved to sacrifice his sleeping position in order to help them. If he could help the person hurry the fuck up, then maybe he would be able to get a few more hours of sleep in before he had to leave. Groaning, he rolled out of bed, hissing as his feet hit the freezing cold floor (they were cement, for some god-forsaken reason- Leorio still hadn’t figured out how this was possible on the third story). He threw on a sweatshirt and sweatpants, both emblazoned with the name York New Medical School (very catchy name, of course), and shuffled out of his room. Well, not really room- it was partially cut off by a wall, but other than that, it was very much a studio apartment.

Leorio slid on the pair of shoes by the door, tucked his knife into his sweatpants, and walked into the hall, peering around. The door next to his own, number 7, was wide open, and lit by a soft glow. He could hear faint humming coming from inside- an odd tune in a minor key that kept rising and falling. He walked the short distance and came to stand in the doorway, clearing his throat awkwardly.

And was greeted with a gun in his face.

Now, any normal person would probably react by screaming and running, or maybe pissing their pants. Leorio was not a normal person. He had mafia-ish friends, had grown up in an Italian ghetto, and also, he had zero fight-or-flight instincts.

“That is a gun,” He said, staring cross-eyed at the gun. And boy was it a gun. A handgun, kinda old-fashioned, with silver details and a wooden handle, his brain added helpfully. 

“Who are you,” The gun-owner said, in a voice that Leorio decided was a very nice voice. He moved his eyes up from the gun, noticing the long fingers that held it, and looked at the person’s face. Leorio decided it was a very nice face. Large eyes, pointy chin, frowny lips, framed by blond hair. He couldn’t decide if the person was both masculine and feminine, or neither. 

“Leorio,” He said, helpfully. Maybe his brain was broken. He was way more distracted by the gun-owner than the gun.

The gun-owner quirked an eyebrow, and their frowny lips became slightly less frowny.

“Oh, um. I live next door,” Leorio added. Their not-frown was really quite distracting. “I was just coming over to offer help. Sounded like you were moving in.”

“It’s two in the morning,” They said, but lowered the gun. Leorio let out a small breath, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Exactly. I figured I could help you move in faster, and then we could both sleep peacefully.”

The person winced and tucked their gun into their waistband (hopefully the safety was on). They were wearing what looked like leggings, and an oversized brown sweater that fell almost to their knees, which was, unfortunately, very cute. They had to lift the hem to tuck the handgun away, and something in Leorio’s stupid brain made him blush at the sight. And his stupid brain only realized after a moment of silence that they had said something.

“Sorry, what was that?” He grinned sheepishly, rubbing his neck. 

This earned him a full smirk- their grey eyes were full of amusement. “I was apologizing for waking you at such an inappropriate hour.”

“S’all good.”

“Also, I’m done moving around for the most part. I’ll be quiet,” The person waved an elegant hand behind them, gesturing towards a pile of brown boxes in the middle of the room. Leorio noticed silver rings glinting on their fingers, reflecting the soft light that he realized was coming from a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. It seemed their apartments were more or less the same layout. It seemed too dirty for someone so… pretty. 

“Ah, ok. Need help with anything else?” 

“That’s quite all right. Thank you, Leorio,” They said, with a small smile. Leorio’s heart malfunctioned for a tiny bit, both at the smile and the person saying his name in their soothing tone. They had a faint accent, which was apparent in the “R” sound. He couldn’t place it.

“Oh, um. Goodnight, then. Or, goodmorning, I guess…” He grinned awkwardly and shuffled away, back to his own apartment. He felt heat in his face that indicated a heavy blush.  
It was only once he was back in bed, listening to the faint sound of humming drifting through the wall, that he realized he hadn’t gotten the person’s name.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Leorio resolved to ask them for it the next day. He had school until four, and then work at the hospital at six, which gave him two hours to change, and somehow make it normal to pop into your neighbor’s apartment even though you’ve only met them once, and ask for their name and pronouns so you can fantasize about them in your head using proper titles. And also the only time he’d met said neighbor, they greeted him with a gun in the face. So there was a strong possibility that that would happen again. Also, that probably meant they were part of the mafia…

It was a rather mundane day at the university, as a contrast to what had happened that morning. He met Gon and Killua for lunch- they were undergrads at York New, majoring in Environmental Science and Dance respectively. At least, Leorio thought it was Dance, currently. Killua tended to change majors whenever he got bored, which was a lot. It seemed like dance, as unusual as it was, was keeping him relatively well-entertained. He was surprisingly good, and he said it was helpful for fighting. 

The teens were Leorio’s suspicious mafia friends, naturally. When he mentioned his new neighbor to them, Gon looked puzzled and Killua looked thoughtful, as was on-brand for them.

“Describe them,” Killua said, through a mouthful of chocolate. Leorio was seriously worried about that kid's blood pressure.

“Blonde, pretty, small for a dude but tall for a gal. Had an old-fashioned handgun.”

His blue eyes widened a bit. “I’ve heard of him.”

“Really? And… it’s a him?” Leorio raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been sure that his neighbor was actually mafia. Killua knowing them confirmed it.

“Yeah. He’s a dude, but he doesn’t care when people think he’s a chick, or something else. Which happens a lot. He specializes in disguise for that reason, among other things. His name’s-”

“No!” Leorio cut him off before he could continue, and Killua’s expression was somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “I, uh, was gonna ask him myself.”

“You’re weird, old man. Didn’t think he’d be your type.”

“Oy-” He spluttered intelligently at Killua’s smug face. Luckily, Leorio was rescued by Gon, who apparently had finally remembered the neighbor’s identity as well.

“Ohh! I remember!” Gon threw an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, so that he, too, was reduced to a stuttering mess. “He’s… he’s interesting. Very important, but something about his job doesn’t feel right… be careful, Leorio.”

Now, Leorio knew to trust Gon’s weird instincts. But, he also knew that the person was very attractive and that he had a nice not-frown.

So, at about five, he knocked on his neighbor’s door. He was holding a tin of freshly-baked blueberry muffins, because according to the sitcoms he sometimes watched on random cable channels, that's what neighbors did. And he had gotten pretty good at baking, living on his own. That was part of the reason Killua talked to him.

It took awhile for the neighbor to respond- Leorio had been about to retreat with his tail between his legs after counting the number of discolored spots where the dark green paint had been rubbed off the door (thirteen). The door in question swung open suddenly, and a grumpy-looking blond stood in front of him, holding the same gun (but down by his side, this time). His hair was sticking out in all directions, and he was wearing another huge sweater with only a pair of flannel boxers. And he also had on thigh-high socks. Dear god. Why would he do this to Leorio’d stupid pea brain, which was already thinking thoughts along the lines of “nice legs nice” and “guh”.

“Oh, um, sorry, did I wake you up or something?” He said. At least it kind of sounded like a sentence. 

“Yes,” He sighed, and set the gun down on a small table by the door. He had apparently gotten his decorating done last night, and it already looked way better than Leorio’s apartment. He could see a cozy-looking green couch and a dark wooden table across the room. Where a TV would have been, there were bookshelves with tons of volumes and little trinkets. Random tapestries covered the walls, and persian rugs littered the floor, covering up the cold cement. “I suppose it’s what I deserve. Call it fate, call it karma.”

“Uh, I made muffins. Cause I think that’s what neighbors do.”

“Yes, in Hallmark movies,” He looked slightly less grumpy as he took the muffins and set them on the same table as the gun. “Thank you.”

“Also, was that a reference to The Strokes? Call it Fate, Call it Karma?” 

He peered up at Leorio. “Yes.”

“Aw, good taste. I love them, especially that song. I wouldn’t peg you as someone who likes classic rock.”

“What do you mean by that?” The neighbor put his hands on his hips, and Leorio’s eyes automatically followed the movement, then trailed back up to awkwardly meet the slightly annoyed gaze. There were faint smudges of what looked like black eyeliner around his eyes, making the look all the more intense.

“Oh, um, I mean like you seem… refined, or something. Like you would listen to classical music,” Leorio was a stupid, stupid man.

“I do listen to classical music. And rock. And many other genres. My tastes are not… discriminative,” He said, and Leorio swore his eyes moved down and back up his body. Or maybe he was getting his hopes up. That seemed more likely.

“Uh,” He replied, and a smirk relit the person’s features. “Uhh, anyways, so, I just came over to give you those and also to ask you your name. Cause I told you mine but I forgot to ask yours…”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he replied. “Kurapika.”

“Kurapika…” Leorio breathed. “Um, nice to meet you, Kurapika. Sorry for waking you from your nap.”

“You gave me muffins, so you’re forgiven, Leorio. And I apologize for holding a gun to your face.”

“S’all good, it was fun.”

Kurapika chuckled at this, and it was even better than his voice. 

“See ya later, then.”

As Leorio walked back to his apartment, he felt like he was floating, just a little.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leorio has crocs.

He didn’t see Kurapika for the next couple of days. When Leorio had woken him, he assumed it had been a nap, because he had been up so late. As it turned out, he was probably nocturnal. His work for the mafia was apparently a 9-5 job, but make it 9 pm- 5 am. By the time Leorio got back from his own work at the hospital, Kurapika would be gone. Not that he went looking for him, but he may or may not have listened intently through the wall for any type of sound. 

Killua was still relentlessly teasing him about being “interested” in Kurapika. Leorio had denied it at first, but after a few guilty wanking sessions in which the blond often popped into his head, he stopped arguing, both with himself and the brat. 

“So I know I’m not supposed to ask about your line of work, but…” Leorio said one day, as casually as possible. The extent of his knowledge, mostly based on deduction and Gon saying things on accident, was that Killua came from a family of assassins and Gon was… Gon. They were both fighters in the underground /something/, and they were well-known and/or successful, because he had seen them talking to very important looking /someones/ in suits with bodyguards on numerous occasions. He was also aware that there were numerous mafia organizations in York New, but he only knew the name of one: the Phantom Troupe. He had no idea who his friends worked for, or if they did at all. They seemed to just kind of run around together doing whatever they wanted. 

“You wanna know how we know Kurapika?” Killua guessed, rolling his eyes. “I can’t tell you much, old man. What are you gonna give me in reward?”

“I’ll make you a giant triple-chocolate cake.”

“And you’ll write ‘Killua is the best and he’s so cool’ on it.”

“And I’ll write ‘Killua is the best and he’s so cool’ on it.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” He grinned, punching Leorio in the arm with enough force to leave a bruise. Gon automatically punched him back, for Leorio, and gave him a thumbs up and a big smile. “Ow! Fucker. Anyways, he’s a bodyguard in an important family. We’ve seen him at our fights, with the family head.”

“A- a bodyguard?” Now that was hard to imagine. He was so cute… did he wear sweaters and leggings when he was on the job? Extremely hard to imagine. Although, Leorio supposed, he definitely had a dangerous air to him, and he definitely knew how to use that gun. 

“Yep. Although he’s kinda worked his way up through the ranks, or so the rumors go. His boss relies on him pretty heavy. Guess he’s more brains than brawn, though he can certainly fight.”

And that was all the information they were willing to give him.

It was another few days after that before Leorio saw his neighbor. And it was not in the way he expected at all.

He was frosting Killua’s cake at about eight, on a Sunday, because that was the only day he had no work or school, when he heard noises coming from Kurapika’s apartment. Specifically, music. More specifically, Wild World by Cat Stevens. Another great song.

It was his enthusiasm as a music lover and enjoyer of classic rock that propelled him over to the adjacent apartment. Also, he had chocolate cupcakes in hand that he had made with the batter from Killua’s cake. He definitely had not made those just so he could bring them over to Kurapika.

Kurapika responded to his knock much faster than last time. He also looked less annoyed than usual, and thankfully for Leorio’s mental state, he was wearing normal ankle socks. Except actually Leorio's mental state might’ve taken an even greater hit, because his neighbor was wearing a cropped tank top, which ended a couple inches above the waist of his sweatpants, so that there was skin being exposed. Flat stomach-type skin. Soft-looking. And shoulders, and slender arms with a surprising amount of defined muscle... Yep, he was going insane.

“I made cupcakes, and also I heard Cat Stevens,” He said, and that sentence was perfect. Good job, Leorio. Keep it up.

“Thank you,” Kurapika took the container, and his slender fingers brushed against Leorio’s hand. They were cold, but not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all. “I hope it wasn’t too loud. I’ve finally set up my record player, so I was testing it out.”

“No, I was enjoying it. A record player, huh? That’s pretty cool,” He felt himself smiling. The man (boy? How old was he? It felt weird to call him a man) turned and retreated towards his tiny kitchen, leaving the door open.

“Do you want to come in? I can show you, if you want,” Kurapika called, after a moment. Leorio tried not to skip into the room.

“Sure, if you don’t mind… should I take my shoes off?”

The blond turned around from the counter and eyes the shoes in question. And then burst out laughing. “Are you wearing crocs?!”

Normally, Leorio would have been offended. But the sight of his normally weirdly formal neighbor doubled over laughing at the sight of his shoes was oddly heart-warming. Or heart-wrenching. Heart-stopping. His heart felt weird. “They’re my baking shoes! They’re comfortable!”

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika gasped, straightening up from where he was leaning against the counter. “I’ve just never seen a fully grown, adult man wearing crocs.”

“I’m only twenty-four! And I’m very fashionable,” Leorio crossed his arms, but slipped off his crocs and left them by the front door. 

“Twenty-four is adult age.”

“Okay, how old are you, then?”  
“Twenty-two.”

“The perfect age to get crocs.”

“That had absolutely no correlation,” Kurapika said sternly, but he was still smiling. He had walked over to his coffee table, motioning for Leorio to follow. There, a record player sat, spinning, playing Cat Stevens. “I have a whole collection of vinyls. Over there, if you’d like to pick one out. This one’s almost finished.”

Leorio wandered over to the bookshelf that had rows of albums lined up in what appeared to be alphabetical order by artist name. It was a wide assortment, but he noted a distinctive lack of pop and new rap. He did see some 80s and 90s hip hop, however. 

“Nirvana, Beethoven, Elton John… ooh, Butthole Surfers. Nice,” He mused, running a hand over the rows. He felt Kurapika come to stand behind him, and he looked down to see the blond focused on Leorio’s hand movements. He focused back on the shelf, hyper-aware of the very human warmth next to him. “Death Cab for Cutie! That’s a good one. Oh, here, Rolling Stones! Mind playing some Stones greatest hits?”

“Good choice,” Kurapika stepped forward to pull it off the shelf, and his shoulder brushed against Leorio’s arm. 

He walked over to the overstuffed couch, settling down, and Leorio followed, sitting next to him after a moment’s hesitation. He watched Kurapika’s deft fingers move with practiced ease across the record player, replacing Cat Stevens with the Rolling Stones. Wild Horses began playing, the quality of the record offering a deeper, more complex tone than Leorio was used to.

“It sounds so much better on vinyl,” He mused, leaning back.

“I agree,” Kurapika nodded. He was moving almost subconsciously to the tune, fingers dancing along his thigh. 

“Is this a hobby of yours? You have so many…” 

“I suppose you could say that. I’ve been collecting these since I was twelve. In my childhood, the only music we listened to was traditional. When I left home, I was exposed to all these things I hadn’t heard… I wanted to experience all of it. So I bought a record player…” The blond sighed. Leorio noticed a half-empty glass of wine and a bottle on the coffee table. Perhaps he had that to thank for the boy’s unusually talkative mood.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do mind.”

“Oh, sorry,” Leorio winced. “Um, then, can I ask why you’re not at work right now? I thought you were on the night shift.”

“It’s my day off. That’s why I invited you over… I’m not one for socializing, but you seemed like you would make acceptable company.”

“Oh, gee. What a compliment.”

“Sorry, I’ve been told I may be a bit too blunt sometimes. Did I offend you?” Kurapika turned, and Leorio looked up from the movement of the disc, which he had been mesmerized by. Their eyes met. Kurapika’s grey ones were wide, lined with black, and filled with honesty and other things that he didn’t understand.

“No, not at all… honesty is the best policy, or whatever they say,” The blond was still looking at him, with an even more curious expression on his face.

“Would you like some wine? I felt a bit odd drinking it alone, but I think it’s less pitiful with two.”

“Oh, um, sure.”

Kurapika stood up, stretching his arms over his head as he did so. He had to be doing that on purpose, seriously. It was extremely hard for Leorio not to look at his ass. Ok, so actually, he did look at his ass. And it was very nice to look at. He watched it as the boy went to the kitchen to retrieve another glass, and then looked away hastily when he turned around. Luckily, there was plenty of interesting decor around the apartment to look at. 

“I don’t drink much, and I think wine tastes like fruit-flavored paint remover,” He said, as he sat back down and poured a glass. “But someone gave me this as a gift, so I thought I should perhaps try it.”

Leorio took the proffered glass and swirled it around a bit before sipping. He had been around enough snooty rich guys to understand a bit about wine. 

“Hmm…” He mused. “Earthy tones, hint of citrus-sy zing, deep tones of truffle-like flavor…”

Kurapika eyed him in surprise, clutching his own glass with both hands in front of his face.

“I’m making shit up. Tastes like nail polish.”

The blond snorted into his drink. “And here I thought you had some semblance of class.”

“I have class!”

“You have crocs.”

The wine loosened their tongues, and Leorio began telling some of his own stories as a trade for the information Kurapika had given him about himself. The blond seemed to be impressed by his status as a med student, and subsequent job at the hospital. He was also amused by tales of Killua and Gon, and how they had danced around each other for four years before getting together. He revealed a bit more about his childhood, and a friend named Pairo. Leorio noted the use of past tense with sorrow, but Kurapika seemed like someone who wouldn’t appreciate pity.

By what was probably the wee hours of the morning, they had listened to the Rolling Stones, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Cage the Elephant, and Elton John. Kurapika had his legs resting in Leorio’s lap, and Leorio had a hand on his thigh. Neither had made any moves to change this.

“Ah, I should probably go…” Leorio said, reproachfully. “Med school, ya know.”

“Of course,” Kurapika nodded. “I would walk you to the door, but I really don’t feel like moving.”

Leorio laughed and stood up. His lap immediately felt empty., and his hand felt cold

“All good. This was nice. I like talking to you,” He made his way to the door, slipping on the crocs.

“Me, too,” The blond replied, from his curled-up position on the couch. “Maybe… maybe you could come over next Sunday. Seeing as it’s both our days off…”

“I’d like that,” Leorio grinned, and he could make out a faint blush on the boy’s cheeks. Probably from the wine.

“Goodnight, Leorio,” He said, smiling.

“Night, Kurapika.”

This time, Leorio definitely flew back to his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally didn't mean for this to be so cute, it just happened. there'll be smut tho, because i think that makes things more interesting to read.
> 
> also, i write all of these in one go and im too lazy to go back and edit, so if there's something worded poorly or bad grammar, pls tell me. also, if it's weird to call kurapika a boy, pls tell me. both man and boy felt wrong, and i headcannon him as he/they but i kept confusing myself with the pronouns, so i used he/him and boy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda smut lmao

“You didn’t fuck?!”

Leorio grimaced at Killua’s language. He saw a few people nearby turn around with annoyed looks on their faces. Apparently they couldn’t go one lunch without causing a public disturbance.

“He’s just a friend! And I don’t even know if he’s into guys…”

“The fact that you have, on multiple occasions, described /in detail/ his habit of wearing thigh-high socks and crop-tops around his apartment is evidence enough to refute both those points.”

“... I can’t say anything to that,” Leorio groaned, hiding his face behind his large cup of microwave ramen. The steam fogged up the lenses of his glasses, and he pulled back, blinking.

“I think it’s sweet!” Gon chimed in. For some unknown reason, he was munching on a piece of plain, raw broccoli. Leorio thought absently that the vegetable matched his spiky hair and green sweatshirt. ‘“He seems nice, Leorio. Maybe I was wrong about his job!”

“I say friends with benefits,” Killua said, leaning back in his chair. He had his skateboard resting underneath it, which he pushed back and forth with the tips of his converse. The noise was grating.

“Literally nobody asked for that disturbing opinion.”

“Yeah, I’m giving you advice for free. Better be grateful, grandpa,” He narrowed his eyes. The glare was honestly pretty threatening. “I haven’t talked to Kurapika much, but from what I’ve gathered, he’s dedicated to his work. Not emotionally available. Don’t get attached.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leorio decided to process and then thoroughly reject that surprisingly helpful bit of advice. He could be attached. He just wouldn’t tell Kurapika anything. He was used to unrequited feelings, and pining in silence. Besides, the blond had invited him over… 

Sunday couldn’t come fast enough. 

It was a particularly busy week at the hospital. He witnessed an unusual amount of severed limbs. Also, a barbie head in a place it shouldn’t have been. The doctors and nurses tended to leave stuff like that to unfortunate interns such as himself. But he was in a good mood, looking forward to the weekend, so he only made a few jokes at the expense of the barbie head patient.

On Sunday, he decided to make lemon bars. He wasn’t sure what Kurapika liked- he didn’t even know if he liked sweets. But the action of baking was calming to him, and he needed to be calm. And, he supposed, baking was sort of his love language. He had taken psych 101 his first year of college, and the professor talked about love languages for like half of a day. Leorio’s was baking, and also probably physical touch. He wasn’t good with words. 

He was unsure as to what sort of occasion this was- what does one wear to your next-door mafia femboy neighbor’s apartment when you’re trying to subtly impress him but also look like you’re not trying too hard? He settled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, over his usual button-up shirt. No crocs this time.

At approximately eight, Leorio knocked on the door of apartment number 7 with lemon bars in hand. Kurapika answered after a minute, greeting him with a small smile. Leorio had a minor heart attack. It seemed that his neighbor was trying to kill him, emotionally and mentally. And, well, physically. He had gotten used to the blond’s usual attire, with some difficulty, but this… he was wearing a skirt, underneath his usual large sweater. A plaid, pleated skirt, that went only halfway down his thighs. And those damned high socks. 

“Um…” Leorio said. “Uh…”

“Leorio. Do you have a problem with something? I’d hoped you were more open-minded than most straight men,” Kurapika said, and wow, that was very blunt indeed. 

“No!” He blurted, cleverly. “I mean- no, no problem. You look… nice. Just more used to seeing you in, uh, casual stuff, y’know.”

“Right,” He raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless opened the door and indicated for Leorio to come inside. He set the lemon bars on the usual kitchen counter. “I was forced to leave my apartment during the day for the first time in months. That’s why I’m dressed like this.”

“Ah. How was it?” Leorio had wandered over to the bookshelves, and Kurapika watched him from where he was sitting on the kitchen counter. The record player was on, playing something classical that he didn’t recognize.

“Terrible. I’m not one for socializing.”

Leorio laughed. “You’re socializing with me.”

“You brought me lemon bars.”

“Fair enough,” He smiled. He was reading the titles of the numerous books on the shelf now. It was just as wide a range as the vinyl collection. Harry Potter, Stephen King, George Orwell… “I noticed you didn’t greet me with a gun this time.”

“Yes, sorry about that. I know how much you enjoy it,” Kurapika said, and Leorio looked over to see him with a sly smile on his lips. He hopped down from the counter, and he noticed a dangly red earring swinging from one ear. Leorio swallowed and looked away.

“I’ve gotta ask… is there something special about that handgun? It looks pretty fancy, with the wood and stuff. And not like the newer models I’ve seen.”

“You know something about guns?” Kurapika asked, surprise in his tone. He had flopped onto the couch once again, so Leorio took that as an invitation to sit next to him. He brought over a Fleetwood Mac album as he did so, handing it to Kurapika. Immediately, the blond moved his legs over into his lap, so that they were in the same position as last time. His heart shutdown and rebooted, and he watched as he switched the soft classical music to the Rumours album. Dreams started playing, and Kurapika began the cute, swaying-not-dancing thing that he did when he really enjoyed a song (Leorio had noticed this last time).

“Not really, but I have friends who do.”

“You’re an interesting man, Leorio,” He said, and Leorio decided to take that as a compliment. “Yes, there is something special. It was what my parents gave me when I left home.”

He choked. “When you were twelve?!”

“Yes,” Kurapika smiled with genuine amusement. “Does that surprise you?”

“I mean… I learned how to use a knife when I was younger than that, so logically… but a gun just seems so… deadly. Easy to kill with.”

“A knife? Interesting. You’ll have to show me sometime,” He mused. He tapped a long finger on the corner of his lips. His nails were painted red, and his hands were once again decorated with rings.

Now, if Leorio was a slightly stupider man, he would think they were flirting. But, he remembered, Kurapika thought he was straight. Apparently he somehow hadn’t noticed Leorio spluttering like a fool every time he saw or tried to talk to the blond.

“Is something bothering you?” Leorio looked up to see Kurapika with a mildly concerned look on his face. He realized he had been frowning at the table.

“I’m not-” He started. An eyebrow twitched. “I’m not what you said. A ‘straight man’.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…”

“Yeah, I’m bisexual and offended.”

Kurapika laughed. “That is a very grave insult, isn’t it? I’m sorry. But you /were/ wearing crocs…”

“Crocs are fashionable!”

“And you stare at me weirdly every time I wear something traditionally considered feminine.”

“Yeah, cause I think you look hot!” Leorio blurted, without thinking, because he was a stupid, stupid man. “Wait, no, I mean- shit, sorry-”

Kurapika was still laughing, but it died down a bit at that. “You think I look hot?”

“Well, uh, yeah, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything-”

The blond tilted his head and leaned forward, so that he was looking up at Leorio with wide eyes. “Can I kiss you, Leorio?”

“Yeah,” He breathed, and then his lap was full of Kurapika and there were soft lips on his.

It was better than he imagined, somehow. He was straddling him, pulling Leorio forward by the back of his head. His lips parted automatically, and Kurapika ran his tongue along his mouth, sending chills down Leorio’s spine and heat swirling in his stomach. He moved his hands to rest on the blond’s lower back, tangling in the thick sweater.

Slowly, agonizingly, Kurapika grinded down on his lap, a pleasant reminder of the situation that Leorio was very much dealing with down there. An embarrassing sound escaped from his throat, and Kurapika pulled back. He opened his eyes to see a small smile on the blond’s face as he repeated the motion, with similar results.

“If you keep doing that…” He grumbled.

“I know,” Was the reply, and he kept doing that. Leorio leaned back in, brushing blond hair away with one hand, and brought his lips to the exposed part of his neck. He felt Kurapika tilt his head back, and apparent agreement with this decision. His skin was soft, and smooth, and Leorio thought something like “chomp” as he sank his teeth into it. That earned him a small yelp, and a groan, but the boy didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached a hand up, underneath Leorio’s shirt, to run it over his stomach, and then down. He moved a single finger under his waistband, and then, very suddenly, his hand was wrapped around Leorio’s hardness. He chuckled at the gasping sound that came out of the man’s mouth, and then silenced him with his mouth as his hand began to move.

The feel of Kurapika’s rings was surprisingly pleasant, and Leorio struggled not to jerk his hips impatiently. The feeling of soft lips and hair on his face and long fingers around him was almost too much- his body felt like it was on fire, just a little. He knew this would end embarrassingly quickly, and sure enough… 

The blond held up his hand, eyeing it with a mixture of distaste and something else. Hesitantly, he brought one finger to his tongue, before screwing up his face in disgust and pulling it back. His cheeks were a soft pink.

Leorio laughed at his expression. “Sorry about that. Here, let me take care of you.”

He reached down, under the skirt (the /skirt/), and Kurapika leaned against him, sighing into his neck as Leorio’s hand moved against soft skin. Luckily, for the sake of Leorio’s dignity, he finished rather quickly as well. At least they were both equally affected.

After, when Kurapika made a move towards the kitchen, Leorio pulled him back down to the couch and stood up himself.

“Let me,” He said. It only took him a few tries to find the towels, and he dampened them with warm water before going back to the couch, and wiping down Kurapika’s hands.

“Here, too,” The blond mumbled, leaning back against the couch. He spread his legs, so that Leorio could see the mess between them and on his thighs, and /holy shit/. Holy shit, that was erotic. He was pretty sure his hands were shaking as he ran the washcloth along bare thighs and under that damned skirt. “Is this a doctor thing? The need to take care of other people?”

“Now that I think about it…” Leorio mused, leaning back and placing the rag on the coffee table (carefully, so that only the clean parts touched the wood). “Probably.”

Kurapika moved from his position (which was probably best for Leorio’s heart health) and came to lean against his side, his head resting against Leorio’s shoulder. He automatically lifted his arm, so that it was curled around the blond. There was a pause that would’ve been silent if Rhiannon hadn’t been playing in the background. Which reminded him-

“Um, did we just… do that… to Fleetwood Mac?” 

Kurapika looked up at him. “Yes, I think we did.”

“Cool,” Leorio grinned, and then yelped as the blond jabbed him in the ribs with sharp fingernails. For a moment, Stevie Nicks’ voice was drowned out by the sound of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so embarrassing luv
> 
> also, i did not intend to make this fic song-related in any way (i usually find that shit cringey). like the strokes shit just kinda came out of me while i was writing it, and i decided that both leorio and pika would have excellent music taste
> 
> on that note, i suppose if you want the full experience, you can listen to the songs with them


	4. 4

“You fucked?!”

“Shh, you’re disturbing the peace,” Leorio muttered. Killua was surprisingly enthusiastic about this subject. Maybe now that he was actually dating Gon, he had decided he was some sort of relationship expert. “And, no, not exactly.”

“Gross, actually,” The white-haired boy wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to imagine that.”

“So, is he your boyfriend?” Gon asked, leaning forward. His expression was as hard to read as always.

“Um, no. I don’t think so,” Leorio scratched his head, watching a person in a lab coat run by the window they were sitting next to, holding a newspaper over their head in place of an umbrella. It had been pouring rain all day, so they had moved inside the cafeteria, much to his displeasure. It smelled like lettuce and human despair.

“Uh oh,” Gon said, leaning back into his boyfriend.

“You didn’t talk about it after?” Killua arched a singular, angled brow. The expression of pure spoiled rich kid.

“Well, no.”

“Dumbass.”

“Probably.”

He had no idea what that Sunday had meant. Leorio had counted it as a win that Kurapika had basically cuddled with him on the couch after, before he decided that Leorio should probably leave, on account of the fact that he had to wake up early for an exam in the morning. Maybe that was his way of setting boundaries… either way, neither of them had mentioned anything about /feelings/.

All he could do was wait. 

It rained all week. His socks were perpetually soaked, and his normal spiky hair melted every time he went outside. He had started to just push it back instead, so that he probably looked like some sort of evil vampiric villain. Maybe Kurapika was into that. Maybe Kurapika /was/ an evil vampiric villain. Actually, nevermind. That would still be hot. Leorio had a lot of issues.

Sunday morning found him already awake. He had barely been able to sleep, stressing about what he was going to say to his neighbor. He recognized that he was overthinking, but he also couldn’t help it. 

And the more stressed he was, the more complicated recipes he baked. He decided on matcha-flavored macarons with raspberry filling, and spent the majority of the day perfecting the little cookies (it took a few tries- the skirt on it had to be perfect, or it wouldn’t crumble right). 

The rainy weather called for corduroys and a cozy sweatshirt. Also, he donned his comedic-relief crocs for the occasion of possibly discussing feelings. 

Kurapika didn’t answer when he knocked on the door. He knew he was there- he could hear The Beatles playing quietly (Eleanor Rigby. Should he be concerned?). Leorio knocked again, to no avail.

“Kurapika,” He called, after five-ish minutes of standing and feeling stupid. “I know you’re there. I can hear John singing.”

The music volume lowered almost immediately, so that he could barely hear it. So, he was hiding.   
Leorio sighed. This was the worst-case scenario. “I made Macarons.”

The door opened, slowly, just wide enough for a single, slender hand to reach out and snatch the tin from his hands, before shutting it again.

“Oy!” He would’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation if he hadn’t been stressed as fuck. He did not want to mess up this friendship, or whatever it was. “Kurapika, seriously? If you’re mad at me, at least talk to me like a normal person.” 

Another pause, and then, slowly, the door opened once more. 

“I’m not mad at you,” He said, with a sigh. The blond had his hands tucked into his sweatshirt pocket, looking up at Leorio with an odd expression. His hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and the strands that weren’t long enough fell back into his face.

“Then why’re you ignoring me?”

“I thought it was the best way to do this.”

“Do what?” Leorio narrowed his eyes. Uh oh.

“Stop being… friends,” He exhaled on the word, blowing the strands of hair out of his face, and Leorio noticed something on his cheek. A bruise?

“Woah, what? And, are you okay? Did someone hurt you? That looks pretty nasty…” 

Kurapika laughed humorlessly. “I’m fine. But this is part of the reason why you probably shouldn’t talk to me.”

“Elaborate.”

“I assume you’ve realized that my job isn’t something noble, like a doctor. It’s not a business where you can afford to have friends. Especially friends that are… innocent. Easily taken advantage of. I’m concerned that, if we got too close… someone could use that to their own advantage. Use you to get to me.”

“You think I can’t handle myself?”

“Not against people like this.”  
“I have, like, at /least/ three counterarguments, so listen carefully,” Leorio cleared his throat. “First: knife skills. I’d say I’m pretty damn good, and I have my knife with me if you want me to prove it. Second: I already have suspicious friends, who I’ve known for years, and I’ve never been harmed because of them. Y’know Gon and Killua?”

Surprise and recognition swirled across Kurapika’s face. “You’re friends with /them/?”

“Yup,” Leorio grinned.

“You make strong points, I admit,” A small smile was forming on the blond’s lips. Probably laughter at Leorio’s expense, because he was being kinda stupid, but that was his goal.

“I have one more: shouldn’t I have a say in this? It’s not up to you to decide what’s best for me, even if you do have more critical thinking skills. If I wanna risk my life to be involved with my attractive blond neighbor, then that’s up to me, right?”

Kurapika sighed. “I hate that what you just said makes sense.”

Leorio grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fine. But I don’t condone this,” He stepped back to let him inside the apartment. Leorio practically skipped inside.

“Mind playing Neil Young? Rain puts me in a Neil Young mood,” He said, locating the vinyl he had spotted the week before. Kurapika nodded in apparent agreement, taking it from him and kneeling down at the table to place it in the record player. Leorio stepped back, towards the window on the far wall. Normally, it wasn’t an amazing view- it faced the alley next to the apartment complex, so that anyone looking outside was greeted with a brick wall in the face- but the rain splattering the glass reflected the soft light from inside, creating little glowing blobs that slid slowly down the pane. A figure came into view, reflected in the window. Kurapika. The top of his head lined up perfectly with Leorio’s shoulder, and he fought back a smile at that thought.

“This is my favorite type of weather,” He said. 

“Gloomy?”

“Yes,” Kurapika’s reflection looked pensive. “Can I ask… how do you know Gon and Killua?”

“They go to the same university as me… I met them their freshman year, when Killua ran into me with his skateboard. I’m almost one-hundred percent sure it was on purpose,” Leorio said, chuckling at the memory. Gon had forced the white-haired boy to apologize. That was a rare experience.

“They seem good together, and…” The blond looked up slightly, and Leorio could feel his gaze on his profile. “Do you know what they do? How I would know them?”

“Well, they’ve never told me explicitly, but I think some sort of Fight Club type shit run by local organized crime groups… and they told me that they’ve seen you there, with your boss or something.”

“Have you ever seen Fight Club?” Kurapika asked, then rolled his eyes when Leorio shook his head. “Right. Well. They’re very talented at what they do. Especially for ones so young.”

“They said something similar about you,” He pointed out. 

He waved that away dismissively. “I’m not entirely sure I would win against either individually. Let alone together.”

“Still impressive. I think one punch from Gon would have me down for a week.”

“Even with those knife skills?”

“Ha! I couldn’t pull a knife on that kid. He’s too cute.”

“Fair enough. But I still do want to see your ability… you’ve been talking big game, as they say,” Kurapika stepped back to face him fully, so Leorio took that as an invitation to do the same. He pulled the knife out of his back pocket and unsheathed it, holding it casually. It was nothing special, not like Kurapika’s gun, but it did the trick.

“Lower your expectations, so that I can impress you,” He said, and then flipped it casually in his hand. There were a few fancy-looking tricks that he knew, and he pulled those out. Kurapika seemed entertained by the flashing blade as it danced over his knuckles. 

And then, Leorio stumbled forward, and dropped it, and the blond automatically stepped towards him and the falling weapon. Except that he didn’t stumble, he feinted, and he quickly grabbed the handle as he moved, sliding behind the blond as he reacted to the move, and grabbed his wrist with one hand, pushing the knife up in front of his throat, so that he was effectively trapped.

Kurapika laughed in delight, the sound husky, as his head was tilted back against Leorio’s chest. “I’m impressed, Leorio.”

"Why, thanks. I’m surprised this worked on you.”

“I may have let it happen,” He said, and pressed back fully against him. Leorio groaned, just a tiny bit, and then all of a sudden, the wrist in his hand was gone, and his knife was being pulled, turned against him, and Kurapika had pinned him against the window with his own knife to his throat.

“So easily distracted,” He purred, grey eyes alight with humor. 

“Only by you,” Leorio mumbled. He was very focused on not being aroused by Kurapika holding a blade to his throat, because that would imply some issues that his psych 101 professor would love to analyze. Unfortunately, his body was not listening to him.

“Leorio.”

“Mhm?”

“Are you turned on by this?” Kurapika tilted his head, his usual ruby earring glittering much like his eyes.

“...maybe,” He admitted, very quietly. His face was probably very red.

The blond pressed forward, so that Leorio’s thigh was caught in between his legs, and so that he could feel the hardness between them. Apparently he wasn’t the only one with issues.

Kurapika drew the knife back from his neck and placed his hand there instead, using it to draw Leorio down to his own height, and pretty much smashed their mouths together. The kiss was open-mouthed and sloppy, different from their first. The blonde bit down on his bottom lip, eliciting another groan, and then licked the spot where his teeth had been. 

“Fuck,” Leorio breathed, only to be silenced by use of tongue.

Unfortunately, Leorio’s back started to ache from leaning down. So he wrapped his arms around Kurapika, hauling him up with a very firm grip on his ass. Luckily, there was no protest, except for a small gasp as they were separated. Leorio opened his eyes to see Kurapika looking at him intensely, pupils blown, and spots of color high on his cheekbones. He looked like he was fighting back a smile, and he wriggled in Leorio’s arms before leaning back in and connecting them once again.

He walked over to the couch, trying to make the action of throwing Kurapika onto it as gentle as possible. The blond melted into the pillows, leaning back, with his legs spread. He looked devastating. He also looked impatient.

“Gimme a sec,” Leorio said, and his voice was embarrassingly raspy. He toed off his shoes, kicking them away. “I gotta…”

“Are you wearing crocs?!” Kurapika exploded with laughter, tilting his head back to thunk against the wall behind the couch. His whole body was shaking. “Did I just- did I just make out with a guy wearing crocs?!”

“I will literally put them back on, in sport mode, and wear them while we fuck. To prove a point.”  
The blond lifted his head back up, no longer laughing. There was just a hint of an amused smirk left. “Is that what we were about to do?”

Stupid, stupid man. “Um, well, I was thinking-”

“Come here, Leorio,” Kurapika said, and Leorio came here. “That is what we are about to do. But please, for the love of God, don’t wear those things while you’re inside me.”

“Guh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's extremely hard for me to write smut with, like, dicks, because i like puthy. but also, i'm kinda hypersexualized so i feel the need for smut in most situations (we don't need to dig into that one). so sorry if it's bad, and also sorry because every single synonym for penis and the word itself are painful to write, so i avoid it.
> 
> also, the crocs thing kinda just happened. i have my own pair and i wear those fuckers every day, because im fashionable


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://pin.it/1c6i3Am

Leorio woke up on his neighbor’s couch at what was probably a ridiculous hour of the morning. 

The only light was coming from the hanging lampshade above him, and it cast creepy shadows around the apartment. A scratching noise echoed in his ears, and he noticed that the record player had stopped, and was doing some sort of thing that he could probably describe if he knew anything about record players. He knew enough to reach down blindly (his glasses had been lost somewhere) and lift the little needle thingy off the vinyl, so that it stopped making that awful noise. Through his grogginess, he became aware of a warm weight on his chest, and looked down to see a blond mass of hair there. Absently, he ran his fingers through it- it was soft. Kurapika. He was curled like a cat on top of him, and appeared to be wearing Leorio’s sweatshirt. Which meant that Leorio was not wearing it. He was also not wearing his shirt, or his pants. 

He was unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to wake Kurapika, resting peacefully on top of him, but he had no idea what time it was, and no method of checking this. He could either get up, be responsible, and go to class, or he could ignore all of that in favor of having his cute neighbor sleep comfortably on him.

Leorio was a simple man. He closed his eyes with a small sigh, listening to the sound of the drizzling rain and Kurapika’s light breathing. It didn’t take long for him to fall back asleep.

The next time he woke up, he opened his eyes to find a face eerily close to his own, staring at him intently. He let out a tiny, startled yelp. Kurapika laughed quietly and moved back, from where he had apparently been crouching over Leorio like some sort of odd creature. 

“Good morning,” He said. His voice was raspy, and his hair was messy. Leorio liked it, a lot.

“Mornin’. Uh, what time is it?”

“I’d say about… eleven thirty.”

“Shit!” Leorio sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He had to go. He had missed his first class, but he could make it to the last fifteen minutes of his second…

Kurapika sat back on the couch, bare legs tucked under himself, watching as Leorio ran frantically about the room, throwing on his clothes haphazardly. He had a vaguely amused air about him.

As Leorio was about to rush out of the apartment with lame excuses and an even lamer goodbye, Killua’s bratty face flashed in his brain. He and Gon were saying something about “communication”, or whatever that was supposed to mean. He slowed in his tracks. The kids were probably right. If he messed this up- well, he couldn’t mess this up.

“Kurapika,” He said, turning to face the boy on the couch. “Should we, I don’t know, talk?”

“We do talk,” Leorio couldn’t tell if he was being purposefully evasive or just himself.

“I mean, like, about this,” He gestured around vaguely, feeling stupid. Kurapika’s brows slowly rose, and he did the head-tilt thing that made Leorio’s organs feel squirmy.

“There’s not much to talk about, is there? I don’t like labels,” He said, crossing his arms.

“Right,” Leorio replied, feeling slightly disappointed. “Um, I’ll just go, then…”

“Leorio.”

“Mhm?”

“I like you. And I like… being with you. So- don’t worry about something stupid,” Kurapika actually looked almost embarrassed, but his gaze was steady and there was definite honesty in his smooth voice.

“I like you, too. And you’re right, as usual,” Leorio grinned. “So… see you Sunday, Pika.”

He slipped out the door, still smiling at the exclamation of dislike for the nickname.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It took weeks of convincing Kurapika to let him come to this. 

It was a night where both Killua and Gon were fighting, in their little underground shady mafia club thing. And Kurapika had a day off, on a rare Friday instead of Sunday, so Leorio had wanted to do something interesting instead of their usual thing. Killua was actually the one who had suggested he come and watch them “get paid to kick old dudes’ asses” (his words, not Leorio’s). Gon was excited about it as well- it was hard to say no to him, especially.

When he had mentioned the idea to Kurapika (his now sort-of boyfriend), he had immediately and thoroughly rejected it. As Leorio had been expecting. But after many dubious promises had been made (he owed Kurapika five different types of desserts this week, as well as other, more explicit favors) the blond had agreed to escort him to the fighting ring. 

He was aware of the reason Kurapika hadn’t liked this idea- he was presenting himself as a possible weakness of him, as well as Gon and Killua. But, Leorio had reasoned, if he was seen to be friends with /three/ well-known badass possible criminals, people would be more likely to stay away from him.

Still, Leorio felt nervous as he shuffled through the noisy crowd in the underground arena. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb (his attire and height didn’t help), and he worried that he was just being a burden on his neighbor. A slender, ringed hand slipped into his own, and he looked down to see Kurapika looking at him with a reassuring smile. He squeezed the hand, and the hand replied in kind.

As they made their way towards the spot that Gon and Killua had requested for them (a sort of friends-and-family section next to the ring), he felt less nervous and more smug. Out of everyone here, he had managed to somehow snag the most badass and attractive person in the probable-mafia. He could imagine Kurapika rolling his eyes at that thought.

They came to a stop at the area (their identities needed no verification- the heavyset bouncer had nodded them past as soon as he’d seen the blond at Leorio’s shoulder). The blond in question leaned against him with a heavy sigh. He disliked fighting matches, such as these, Leorio knew- but he also liked Gon and Killua. He had started randomly coming to lunch with them, when he wasn’t sleeping during the day, and he got along with the boys well. Leorio had felt like a father introducing his new girlfriend to his kids.

A loud, ringing bell sounded, and some bearded dude in the ring started shouting things that Leorio didn’t bother to understand. Soon after, the first fight began. At the each end of the ring, a figure stepped onto the platform. One was bald, dressed in black, with impressive eyebrow mass, as if he was making up for the lack of hair on top. The other fighter was even more eccentric- was that a clown? The clown had magenta hair, and a crop top decorated with card patterns. Also, unfortunately short booty shorts. A feeling of unease settled in Leorio’s stomach. Despite his ridiculous appearance, the man oozed danger.

Beside him, Kurapika tensed. Leorio looked down to see his eyes narrowed in either anger or disgust, or both. 

“Hisoka,” He hissed, gaze focused on the sleazy clown.

Leorio looked back at the ring just as the beard guy started yelling again, and then the fight began. 

It was not a fair fight. They were both talented, but the clown had a clear advantage. He was not fighting back at all, and yet somehow he was winning. His opponent managed to graze his cheek once, and landed a punch on him arm, before ‘Hisoka’ or whatever his name was stepped forward and punched him square in the jaw, causing him to collapse to the floor. After a few seconds, he was declared to be blacked out, and Hisoka accepted a clean victory. The audience’s applause was hesitant and confused, as the clown sauntered off. 

“Who was that guy?” Leorio whispered in Kurapika’s ear. 

“You’re better off not knowing.”

He frowned and leaned back. A typical response, but he felt like he was seeing the blond in a different light tonight. He was wearing a suit instead of his usual type of clothes, because apparently that was what he wore to his job. Leorio though he looked good, but also, not like himself. Next time he managed to persuade Kurapika to go outside with him, he would request the skirt, just to counteract the effect. 

The second fight was Killua’s. He was up against someone that he had referred to as an “old man”, so probably about twenty-three.

As the next match was about to begin, a green-clad figure slipped in next to Leorio.

“Hi, Leorio! Kurapika!” Gon said cheerfully, waving a hand.

“Hey, Gon,” Said Leorio. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready, or something?”

“I’m ready!” He was dressed in his usual green hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that had been cut into shorts. Okay, then. “And this won’t last long.”

That was a confident statement. Leorio focussed back on the ring, in time to see Killua stepping into the ring. He, too, was wearing casual clothes- a layered shirt and jeans. Was there no dress code? 

His opponent was large, buff, and angry-looking. Leorio chewed on his lip in silent worry, but both Gon and Killua looked calm. Kurapika, as well, actually.

The beard guy shouted, and it began, and then it ended. Killua had moved so quickly that Leorio didn’t notice until his opponent was down. He struggled to get up, but the kid delivered another swift chop to his neck, and he was out. 

Gon and Leorio cheered loudly with the crowd as Killua slouched offstage, hands in his pockets. He quickly found them and greeted them with a wicked grin.

“Nice, Killua!” Gon exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his cheek as they passed one another. Killua’s smug face erupted in flame. ‘Simp’ Leorio mouthed at him (he had just learned that word and intended to use it as much as possible). Killua flipped him off.

“Good luck, Gon,” Leorio called after the boy. He waved, beaming, as he hopped over the fence.

Gon’s opponent was leaner than Killua’s- Leorio didn’t know if that meant he was more agile, or less strong. Apparently, it didn’t matter, because as soon as the match started, Gon delivered a brutal punch that sent him flying out of the ring. Leorio winced, and then cheered with the rest of the crowd as Gon was declared the winner.

“Sorry, old man,” Killua sighed. Gon was leaning on him, arms wrapped around his neck, smiling widely. “You didn’t get to see much. Easy opponents. But… you know what’ll happen if you ever go through with that shitty plan to limit my sugar intake.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leorio pretended to brush the threat off, but he made a mental note to make hot chocolate bombs for the kids as soon as he got home.

If he got home.

He had started to spend more and more time over at Kurapika’s, because it was much nicer than his own apartment. And because Kurapika was there.

They had gone right back to number 7 from the fight, after chatting a bit (Leorio knew Kurapika’s social battery had the capacity of an iPhone 4), and curled up on his green, overstuffed couch. Tonight, they were listening to The Strokes on vinyl, and Kurapika mumbled the words to Call it Fate, Call it Karma as he buried his head in Leorio’s chest. The lyrics resonated in his brain.

Outside, the snow had evolved into rain, and cottony bits of white fell slowly in front of the tiny apartment window. Leorio watched them go, feeling the inexplicable emotion that welled up inside him every time he sat with his almost-boyfriend like this, listening to the velvety scratch of the record player, and feeling his soft swaying movements. He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of the blond head, eliciting a soft, contented sigh.

Christmas was in five days. Leorio wondered what color crocs he should get Kurapika.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end, folks. literally tell me if i should fix the ending and i will, cause i can't write endings and i cant tell if its bad :) thanks for readin tho
> 
> also, he got him red crocs. and kurapika secretly wears them around the house now whenever leorio's not there

**Author's Note:**

> cause i have time over break to write something long


End file.
